


Death and the Doctor

by nostalgia



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Missing Scene, Not Really Character Death, fictional religion, i mean he gets better, oldfic, totally could fit somehow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Let's Kill Hitler, the Doctor meets Death. Actual Death, like the person Death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death and the Doctor

The Doctor was dead. He knew he was dead because he had some experience in the matter. This time, though, he wasn't glowing with a nice healthy regeneration. 

“I can't believe she actually killed me,” said the Doctor. “I know she's always implied it, but I thought that was just her way of flirting.”

“REALLY?”

The Doctor looked up at the tall black-hooded figure who had appeared on the scene without fanfare. He thought for a moment. “Who are you?”

“DEATH,” said Death.

“No,” said the Doctor, shaking his head, “Death's a woman and she likes pastel colours.” 

“THERE HAS BEEN,” said Death, “A CLERICAL ERROR.”

“You're not kidding,” said the Doctor. He folded the memory of his arms. “Well, I'm not going anywhere with the wrong anthropomorphic personification of death. I have rights, you know.”

Death was silent for a moment. Then he said “WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PUT ON A DRESS?”

“No, I want my own Death from my own mythology! You can't just disrespect my culture like this.”

“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD WRITE TO YOUR MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT.”

“Oh, very funny. Look, I'm not standing for this.”

“YOU ARE NOT STANDING, YOU ARE DEAD,” Death pointed out.

“This is ridiculous. Is this what the universe has come to? Sending people the wrong Death and expecting them to just go along with it?” The Doctor looked about the room at his rewardingly upset friends. “Can't one of them save me? Rory's a nurse, he cures death all the time.”

Death produced something like an hourglass with too many lobes on it. Sand was failing to trickle inside it. He showed it to the Doctor. “THIS IS YOUR LIFE. IT HAS COME TO AN END.”

“Bollocks,” said the Doctor, “I feel fine.”

Death was used to people arguing about their own death, but less used to them having a bit of a point. He snapped his bony fingers and summoned his horse.

“I WILL LET YOU PET BINKY IF YOU COOPERATE.”

“Tempting,” said the Doctor, “but no.”

“YOU HAVE BEEN POISONED,” said Death, “THERE IS NO CURE. YOUR HEARTS HAVE STOPPED.” 

“So? I've had worse.”

Death produced a mobile phone from his robes. “I WILL TAKE THIS TO A HIGHER AUTHORITY.” He dialled a number and briefly explained the situation. “I SEE,” he said, finally. “YOUR DEATH IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE,” he told the Doctor, putting his phone away.

“Death takes a holiday?” 

Death leaned on his scythe. “HOLIDAYS ARE ALLOWED UNDER UNION RULES.”

“What do the union rules say about my right to the proper Death?”

Death fished in his robes again and found a small booklet. He handed it to the Doctor. “YOUR STATUTORY RIGHTS.”

The Doctor flicked through the astral pamphlet. It was called _So Your Death Has Been Attended By The Wrong Death_. It had cheery pictures in it. 

“It says,” said the Doctor, “that in these circumstances I'm entitled to live until my own Death can do the job.”

“THIS IS TRUE,” said Death, who had hoped the Doctor wouldn't read that part. 

“Well?”

“THERE IS A PRICE,” said Death. 

“I'll pay it,” said the Doctor, rather unwisely. 

Death gave Binky a sugar-lump and got the strange hourglass out again. He tapped it a few times until the sand started to flow. “YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED THE KISS OF LIFE,” he said. 

“From you?” asked the Doctor, who wasn't that keen on kissing someone who had no lips.

“NO,” said Death. He hoisted himself onto Binky's saddle and tried to look impressive. It just wasn't his day. 

“But -” said the Doctor, who had worked out how he was going to not die.

“THAT IS THE WAY THE COOKIE CRUMBLES,” said Death.

“That's not fair!”

“LIFE IS NOT FAIR,” said Death, “BUT I ALWAYS FOLLOW THE RULES.”

“Is he worth it?” asked River in the land of the living.

“SO IT GOES,” said Death, galloping off to make his next appointment.


End file.
